


Kick at the Darkness Until It Bleeds Daylight

by fleurofthecourt



Series: Flash Fic [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed Castiel, Dean Takes Care of Castiel, Demon Bela Talbot, Flash Fic, Fluff and Angst, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Season/Series 10, Resurrected Charlie Bradbury, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 13:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last hour was kind of a messy blur. </p><p>The Mark was gone. But so was Death. </p><p>And now this. He didn’t know what to do with <i>this.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At the moment, it's mostly angst, but if I keep at it, it should, hopefully, eventually get fluffier. You know, when they defeat the Darkness.
> 
> [Flash Fic for the Prompt: Caught in a car together during a thunderstorm. I, um, took some liberties.]

Black clouds continued to gather en mass around them as the Impala finally came free from the mud, and Dean gunned it. 

What the Darkness was going to do, he had no idea, and he was certain Sam didn’t either. But if he had a chance of not finding out, he was definitely taking it. 

So he stomped on the gas pedal until his Baby was barrelling through the fence that was keeping them from the main road. 

Once on it, Sam yelled for him to swerve out of the way of an oncoming truck that was unable to see them through the thick, dark air that was crackling at the edges with faint streaks of lightning.

He ran straight into a tree and cursed his luck that they were now back to square one on their desperate quest to outrun primordial evil. 

If that was even possible. 

Though, he figured, stranger things had happened. 

He had just killed Death, after all. 

“Fuck.” 

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face. 

The last hour was kind of a messy blur. 

The Mark was gone. But so was Death. 

And now this. He didn’t know what to do with _this._

But, unsurprisingly, the world was not interested in helping him solve his problems. 

It was interested in giving him more. 

Purplish grey demon smoke filled the car as Crowley, with a limp Cas tucked under his arm, appeared in the back seat. 

One look at Cas made Dean wince. He was unconscious, for some unknown reason, and there was blood crusting under his eyes. 

No longer held beneath the sway of the Mark, Dean remembered viscerally that the last thing he had said to Cas was that he would kill him if he didn’t stop trying to save him. 

Well, perhaps not in so many words, but the meaning had been pretty clear. 

After what had happened... 

And now... this... 

“Moose, squirrel,” Crowley leveled his gaze to each of them in the rearview mirror, glaring significantly at Sam. “Fix. The. Problem.” 

And with that, he was gone. 

Dean puzzled, briefly, over Crowley’s unusually short visit before letting his gaze fall back to Cas, then before he even knew what he was doing, the car was in park, and he was climbing over the seat. “Sammy, get us out of here.” 

“Yeah,” Sam said as he slid across the bench. “Is he...okay?” 

“No clue,” Dean said before beginning to check Cas’ vital signs, uncertain of their relevance. He was breathing steadily, his heart was beating, if a little erratically, and aside from the blood on his eyes, there was no outward sign of further injury. 

Dean shook at his shoulder and repeated his name, with increasing concern, to no response. 

Then keeping one hand on Cas' shoulder he looked up at Sam. “You know anything about this?” 

Sam shook his head. “Last I knew, he was working with Rowena on the spell, but Rowena was the one casting it. It shouldn’t have done anything to him.”

“Yeah, well, sure as hell doesn’t look like that's what went down, Sam,” Dean growled. He wasn't sure if he was mad at Sam, himself, or the whole situation but he had this bad habit of venting his frustrations on the closest target. And unfortunately for Sam, that was Sam. “So you know anything about this, you damn well better say something right now. Because we're not doing this secret bullshit. Because look around us, and tell me where it got us. Evil -- frigging evil from the frigging beginning of time.” 

He dove, hastily, back over the seat to grab a flask of holy water out of the glove box. Then he tugged off his overshirt, poured water on the sleeve, and started dabbing the blood from Cas' eyes. 

Cas flinched against the feel of the fabric, but his eyes remained firmly closed. 

“I have no idea what happened to Cas. He was helping Rowena. Crowley wasn’t even there. That’s all I know. That’s the truth, Dean. I swear." 

He glanced back at Cas, grimaced, and added, “Sorry, but I really don’t know anything.” 

“Great," Dean muttered. “That’s great.” 

He stared helplessly out the passenger side window at the mounting black then turned back to Cas’ inexplicably immobile form, feeling utterly and completely powerless. 

With no direct course of action presented to him to keep it at bay, the tidal wave of guilt and grief, that the Mark had done its best to hold back, flooded relentlessly onto the shore and mixed with his current frustrations. 

“I don’t...I don’t know what to do, Sam. I don’t. I don't know what this...” he waved vaguely at the sky “is or what or, even if, we can do anything about it. And if we can’t, it’s...it’s on us. All of it. On me for getting that damn tramp stamp in the first place, and you for deciding that saving me from my own damn mistake was more important than the rest of the whole goddamn world.”

His eyes were beginning to blur too much to focus on his ministrations to Cas. He stopped, wiped at his eyes, and asked, “Do we...do we even save people anymore, Sammy? Or do we only care about each other? Is that all we do now?" 

Sam’s face fell and his lips twisted into a frustrated grimace. “Dean, I had to save you. I had to. You’ve been there for me every time I screwed up, every time I needed saving. I couldn’t not do the same for you.” 

“I get that, Sammy. I do. Believe me. Really... but...” Dean crumpled his shirt into a ball before throwing it on the seat. “We’ve...we’ve got to start looking out for someone other than number one. We do. We can’t let anyone else end up like Charlie. Like Kevin. I mean...we keep putting the people, the people we... love... in danger. The, uh ... _people_...we should be protecting. And we, uh, we’ve got to start somewhere.”

His hand found its way to Cas' cheek and rested there. 

“With Cas?” Sam asked gently. 

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “With Cas. He's, well, he's all the family we've got left, really...” 

Sam started to say something about Jody and, possibly, Claire but Dean wasn’t really listening. 

His hand cupped Cas’ chin even as he shook his head and wiped at his eyes, trying to distance himself from the weight and meaning of his words, thankful that Sam had, mostly, chosen not to comment on them. 

They drove another ten miles down the steadily darkening state route before Dean asked, “So... you got any bright ideas?” 

Sam chewed at his lip. “You think, maybe, the other angels could help?” 

“Those dicks?” 

“You got a better idea?” 

“Other than calling Crowley back?” Dean shook his head. “No. Could kill two birds with one stone with the feathered assholes, though, I guess. Might know something about the frigging _Darkness._ Might know what’s wrong with Sleeping Beauty here,” Dean scrubbed at his face. “Okay. Let’s find that damn playground.” 

Sam’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as his frown deepened. “I have a few things to tell you first, and you’re really not going to like any of them.” 

“Well, Sam, I don’t like much of anything right now,” Dean said. “So hit me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Cas will be back next chapter. 
> 
> For now, Charlie, Rowena, and Bela get the spotlight.

“Merry Christmas,” Charlie’s eyes popped open as she sat up, startled and confused. 

The last thing she fully remembered was her futile efforts to wrap the vinyl shower curtain around her wounds in a vain attempt to stop the seemingly endless flow of blood. 

Her last thought before she had completely passed out was that she’d done so well stitching herself up with floss -- why the hell could she not handle a shower curtain? 

Well that, and that if this went the way she was kind of expecting it to, the next thing she was going to see was Scarlett Johansson’s welcoming arms. Because, really, what was Heaven if it didn’t include that? 

And, if that wasn’t the way it went, she sort of expected Sam or Dean or maybe even Cas to shake her awake still lying in the pool of her own blood or on a hospital bed or some other place that would allow her to lick her wounds before whatever trouble they managed to get into next. 

But, of all the possibilities she’d considered, waking up to find Rowena sitting in an ornate armchair across from her bed, tracing her index finger over the lines of the Book of the Damned, with a devilish gleam in her eye, was not among them. 

Without looking up from the book, she said, “I told you those boys would be your undoing, but did you listen?” 

Charlie blinked a few times, shook her head, decided that this really was her current reality, and started looking around the room. 

The walls were covered in tacky floral wallpaper, and there was what appeared to be a guest sign-in lying open on the dresser across from her. 

“An inn?” Charlie asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Everyone knows how exquisite my taste is. No one will be looking for me in such a tawdry establishment. So best that I stay here to acquaint myself with this treasure,” Rowena stroked her hand reverently over the book’s pages,”before I let the world know exactly what I am.” 

“And what is that exactly?” Charlie asked as she chanced a furtive glance at the closed and, possibly, locked door. 

“The world’s most powerful, and, currently, most needed witch,” Rowena said. 

“Needed?” Charlie scoffed. 

“Those _brothers_ of yours really outdid themselves. Look outside, and you’ll see only the beginning of the mess they’ve created.” 

Charlie raised an eye before hesitantly turning around and lifting up the lace curtain. 

She narrowed her eyes at the dark clouds, hanging lower than they should, spreading across the horizon as far as she could see. She could tell, without Rowena’s unwanted commentary, that it was not any ordinary thunderstorm. 

And, while she had no desire to continue any kind of conversation with Rowena, curiosity got the best of her on this one. “What the hell is that?” 

“‘The Darkness,’” Rowena said. “The great and powerful curse upon humanity that I’m going to get rid of.” 

“Why would you want to get rid of it?” Charlie asked. “Aren’t curses upon humanity kind of your thing? I mean, you’re a witch.” 

“No, no. What I enjoy, dear,” Rowena said, as she patted Charlie’s cheek, “is power.” 

Charlie flinched away from her hand before swinging her legs off the bed, testing her weight, feeling no hint of the injuries she knew she had sustained. “So...what am _I_ doing here?” 

“You mean why aren’t you dead?” Rowena asked. “Because you’re much more useful to me alive. Those Winchesters were on to something with you. You’re a clever lass.” 

“So you're going to keep me prisoner in your china doll and doily dungeon?” Charlie asked. 

“Oh, don’t worry. You aren’t my prisoner. You’re going to be my apprentice.” 

Charlie rolled her eyes. Like that was going to happen. 

“I’m sure you’ll see it my way, if you give it some time.” 

“Well, I’ve given it some thought,” Charlie said as she walked purposefully towards the door, waiting for Rowena to blast her back onto the bed or something, “and I’m not really into becoming ancient and evil today.” 

But, by the time her hand had come to rest on the doorknob, Rowena had still made no move to stop her. 

Something about that seemed off, but what exactly, she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

She had a feeling, though, that whatever it was lie on the other side of the door. So, with no small degree of apprehension, she turned the knob, and peered into the hallway. 

Her eyes grew wide as she took in the battered bodies strewn along the carpet, surrounded by broken wood and shards of glass, spattered with flecks of blood. She held her hand over her mouth as she forced the bile rising in her throat back down. 

Rowena’s hand came to rest on her shoulder. “These unfortunate souls were merely the first of many casualties to come from this new plague upon humanity.” 

Charlie shook Rowena’s hand off. “But what...what happened?” 

“To them?” Rowena said. “A poltergeist.” 

“A poltergeist?” Charlie repeated. She knew that her hunting skills weren’t as good as they could be. She’d only been in the game for a little while, and half that time had been spent in an alternate universe where the rules were different. But, “You’re saying a poltergeist is the plague? I mean, yeah, they’re a plague on the place they’re haunting, sure, but it’s not like they can haunt the whole earth. They’re bound to wherever they died or wherever the last part of their remains are left.” 

“You’ve done your research, I’ll grant you that,” Rowena said, giving her a pitying look, heavy with implication. “But, I’m afraid, it won’t help you anymore, lass.” 

XXX 

“The Winchesters are heading east, Route 66, outside Albuquerque,” the stocky, beady eyed man squeaked as she tugged him in by his collar. 

“You’re certain?” Bela asked. 

“Yes, yes, I swear. Those runes are never wrong. Can barely keep them in stock.” 

“If you’re lying, I’ll be back,” she said coldly, as she let him drop back onto the shop’s hardwood floor. 

As she turned for the door, she heard him reach for a shotgun. 

She laughed. “You can’t hurt me.” 

“Not with a regular gun, no. But with this, I might,” he said, ducking down towards the counter, looking unconvinced. His hand trembled as he reached for the trigger. She grinned wickedly as he pulled it. 

She stretched out her hand, catching the salt round as it hit against it. It wasn’t painless, but the salt didn’t repel her as it had for so long. 

She let it rest in her palm before letting the grains trickle slowly through her fingers. “What you fail to understand, darling, is that the rules no longer apply.”


	3. Chapter 3

"So let me get this straight, you went prison break upstairs, and you don't know what those dicks did to Bobby?" 

Sam sighed. He didn't understand why sacrifice only stepped outside the bounds of casualty when it was Dean at the helm. They were all adults here, Bobby more than anyone. "He wanted to help, Dean. He wanted to help you." 

He definitely knew the consequences of getting involved in this stuff. 

Just like Charlie.

Just like Cas. 

"We all did." 

"Yeah, well, I didn't want that," Dean looked down at Cas, who was still worryingly unconscious before adding, "I didn't want that from anyone." 

Sam scrunched his nose. It's not as though he had meant for any of this to happen. 

"Look, Dean, I'm sorry about all of this. I am. Really. Believe me. But...we got rid of the Mark." 

And he needed, perhaps even more than Dean did, to believe the consequences of that were worth it. 

Because Dean was right. He had been looking out for only the two of them. 

And Dean didn't have to say a word about it for him to feel consumed by guilt. 

So, when Dean declined to comment, trying to ignore the continual images of Bobby's letter, Cas' blood covered eyes, and Charlie's lifeless body flitting endlessly through his mind, he focused, as much as he could, on the road. 

XXX 

The hours dragged on and on as Sam drove, and, seemingly, nothing changed. 

The clouds remained dark, but they did not become darker. They merely rested, imposingly, on the edge of the horizon, letting off occasional streaks of lightning and soft crackles of thunder. 

The road itself, flat and deserted, wound slowly towards Tulsa. 

Dean tried, to no avail, to contact Crowley. All of his calls, from every phone he tried, were immediately sent to voicemail. And none of his messages, ranging from angry to verging on pleading, were returned. 

So, lacking the materials for a summoning, he settled instead on focusing on the small glimmer of hope that he had: the steady rise and fall of Cas' chest. 

He threaded his hand into Cas' hair, not quite tugging at it in frustration, trying to come up with some other course of action. He couldn't just sit there when another goddamn apocalypse was upon them and Cas... 

He huffed. 

Then startled as cool fingertips laced his wrist. 

"Cas..." he breathed, trying to focus on the moment and not the last time Cas' hand had rested on his forearm. But Cas was only too quick to remind him. 

He scanned his arm appraisingly before nodding, “It’s gone.” 

“Yep, just me now,” Dean said. “The Dean that you know.” 

Cas shook his head, frowning. "That will make this harder." 

Dean did not like the sound of that. "Make what harder?" 

Cas' grip tightened as he locked their eyes, his own burning with a frightening intensity. "Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the fricking sun." 

Dean gaped at him, then tried to offer a response, but only succeeded in further gaping. Finally, he sputtered, "What...why? Why would I do that?" 

"There isn't time." 

"Well, make time," Dean growled. 

Cas sighed. "I'll try. Truthfully I don't know how long I have. Rowena...she cast a spell on me. And my grace...it's...it's fighting it. But I'm afraid... I'm afraid it isn't going to win." 

Dean frowned. If Cas' grace couldn't fight off a witch's curse... 

"Thought you had your mojo back?" 

Cas grimaced. "It is mine. What's left of mine. Metatron used most of it for his spell." 

Goddamn Metadouche. 

"So you're running on half power? Or... would be if Rowena hadn't used her hocus pocus on you?" 

"More or less," Cas said. 

Sam, looking frustrated, leaned over the seat. "Do you know what the curse was? Is it something we could look up and reverse? Because, Cas, we're definitely not going straight to smiting you." 

"Sam, I will be rabid. I will destroy everything in my sight," Cas said. "Including you. Including Dean. Do not allow that. Please." 

"Yeah, Cas, not happening. Not now. Not ever," Dean said. 

Cas looked at him pleadingly. 

"Hate to break it to you, pal, but you're a Winchester. That means me and Sam, we're going to do anything and everything to fix this." 

"Dean's right, Cas," Sam said. 

The look of pleading did not leave Cas' eyes as his gaze flitted to the road. As it did, his eyes widened, and he scrabbled at the seat until his nose was all but pressed against the glass. "The Darkness..." 

His voice was filled with a dark, reverential awe. 

"You know about this?" Sam asked.

"I thought it was only a legend... we all did." 

When Cas said nothing further, Dean nudged his shoulder. "Hey, Yoda, you want to elaborate?" 

"There isn’t time," Cas said, shaking his head, before his whole body went rigid. He slumped to the side as Dean caught him and carefully maneuvered him back to the seat. 

As he did, he looked helplessly up at Sam. 

If Cas was right about Rowena's curse, and he was basically a ticking time bomb, what were they going to do with him? 

XXX 

As Dean's eyes, filled with fear and concern, flitted to his in the rearview mirror, Sam merely shrugged. They were in the middle of nowhere and couldn't get in touch with Crowley, Rowena, or any of their hunting contacts anywhere nearby. 

Their current choices were to keep Cas with them and hope for the best or strand him on the side of the interstate. 

And the second choice wasn't actually a choice, given that they were going to fix whatever Rowena did to him, come hell or highwater. 

"If we're going to help him," Sam said, "we need him with us." 

"Yeah," Dean agreed, his hand threading, unconsciously, into Cas' hair. Which, if their current situation was any less crappy, Sam might have found amusing. 

Unfortunately, he knew full well that whatever the Darkness was going to do, it was going to do soon. 

They'd been lying in wait for nearly a day now, with the dark sky their only hint that something big and bad was out there. 

It seemed, though, as both his and Dean's phones started ringing violently, that, perhaps, the Darkness had already been jamming their cell reception. 

Sam looked at his caller ID and frowned. "Jody?" 

"Want to give me the play by play of what the hell’s going on?" Jody said. 

"It’s kind of a long story," Sam said. 

“Think I’m going to make time for this one, Sam,” Jody said. “I’ve got two girls here going out of their minds trying to figure out why there’s clouds rising out of the ground. And I need answers for them. You got ‘em, I want ‘em.” 

“Okay, fair enough,” Sam said, trying to decide where to start. 

As he did, he heard Dean’s phone thunk against the car floor as he sputtered, "...Ch..Charlie?"

Someone must have found Charlie’s phone and gone through her contacts. It was the most logical explanation. Sam shook his head. “Jody, find out whatever you can about ‘the Darkness.’ That’s what this is.” 

“The Darkness. Got it. You hear that girls?” 

In the background, Sam heard Alex and Claire make some sarcastic quips about how vague that was before the sound of Charlie’s voice crackingly through Dean’s phone made his head whip around. “Dean! Sam! Hello! Anyone home?” 

“Charlie?!” Sam said. 

“That’s right, bitches! I’m alive,” Charlie, or someone that sounded a whole lot like Charlie, said.


End file.
